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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184237">doomsday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/phialyn/pseuds/phialyn'>phialyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Adventure &amp; Romance, Angst, Anxiety, Dissociation, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Ishigami Senku/Science, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ramen, Sarcasm, Science, Senku is a good friend, Slow Burn, Suika is precious, asagiri gen has issues, mainly me taking canon and stretching it thin, so much sarcasm i am so sorry, someone save these poor bastards, they're low-key enemies at first, we vibe with that good male-female friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:48:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/phialyn/pseuds/phialyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>he stared at me like I was a part of some grand cosmic joke, and I couldn’t blame him. waking up 3,700 years in the future is pretty fucking bizarre.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>my three best friends save the world. I offer moral support and free ramen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asagiri Gen &amp; Ishigami Senkuu, Asagiri Gen &amp; Original Character(s), Asagiri Gen/Original Female Character(s), Ishigami Senku &amp; Original Character(s), Ishigami Senkuu &amp; Ogawa Yuzuriha &amp; Ooki Taiju, Ishigami Senkuu &amp; Ogawa Yuzuriha &amp; Ooki Taiju &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the end of the world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“What happens to swallows who are late for school?”<br/><i>—El libro de las preguntas,</i> Pablo Neruda</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a cage on the edge of my Grandfather’s ramen booth that has a maneki-neko in it. Gramps had to lock it up because customers kept stealing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It waves at me behind the bars, a referent smile plastered between two patsy white cheeks. I don’t wave back, busy massaging suds from the last ceramic bowl, wiping the blue-painted rim with a damp cloth and stacking it onto the counter with the rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nao,” Gramps looks less than appeased, which I don’t think has anything to do with the maneki-neko or the state of the dishes. “You’re going to be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My first class probably already started. I blink at him. A soap sud bubbles off my palm and floats to the floor without a sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> late. Mostly because you make me clean before I leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The maneki-neko sends me a sly look and just keeps waving; the fact that it’s locked up somehow makes it more unnerving. I shake the remaining suds off my hand and they dissipate like sugar in water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gramp’s mouth smushes into a deep frown. His whole face will be one giant wrinkle, at this rate. “That’s not my fault. Get up earlier. Did you finish up the bowls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gesture with a rag. “Cleaned and dried. My bike’s still in the garage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is—? Oh for </span>
  <em>
    <span>God’s sake</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>one time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile daintily, tossing the rag onto the counter. It leaves a bubbly smear on the wood. “Once a thief, always a thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>—“ he snarls and waves his metal ladle, which reflects the lights above us like a silver sun. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>borrowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten minutes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And do you really think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to? Do you know how ridiculous an old man looks riding that stupid cherry red excuse of a bicycle—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ba-thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> as something rockets off the canopy above us and a riveting </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span> as it completely shatters to pieces in front of the counter. Gramps jolts into the wall, shouting something awful and nearly dropping his ladle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sonnova—!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m startled enough by the outburst that I tense up for a moment, frozen. I pause and peer over the counter and a sizzling vat of broth, but can’t get a good look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Gramps is saying, “took ten years off my life, I swear to—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..Amari-san probably dropped another flower pot off her porch,” I utter, sighing. The maneki-neko waves cheerfully at us, unlucky and uncaring. “That’s the third time this week, now. What’ll it be today? Tulips? Camellias?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> what goddamn flower it is!” Gramps erupts, shuddering down to his bones. “That goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>old lady</span>
  </em>
  <span> better get down here and lick the goddamn dirt off the pavement! Just because she lives above us doesn’t mean she can wreck our goddamn storefront—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful now,” I warn, slinging my bag over one shoulder. My hands are still a little slick with soap. “Amari-san may be an avid gardener, but she’s got a temper. Don’t mess with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gramps looks ready to grab a nearby mob and whap me with it. “Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> of here already!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snicker. “Bye~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Out!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I dodge his swipe at my head and bolt under the flap out from behind the counter. I pause at the sidewalk, tracing a hand over a cracked leather stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The maneki-neko peers through the bars of the cage with slitted yellow eyes, still waving. I spot the crumpled remains of whatever hit the canopy—but there’s no flowers or dirt in sight. Actually, it’s grey stone, not ceramic—and one chunk sorta looks like a feather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By god,” Gramps mutters behind me. “She’s gotta stop dropping those goddamn flower pots.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I hop off my bicycle on third avenue to spot Taiju, two cats, and a handful of senbei. They’re licking crumbs straight from his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju straightens to attention; the cats hiss in protest as their food’s pulled away from them. “Good morning Nao!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm, morning.” I wipe sweat off my upper lip with my shirt collar, sending him a meaningful look. “Today’s the day, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s eight-thirty, partly cloudy, bustling with the kind of wind that makes me feel a little chilly. One of the cats curls around my ankle; a spot of grease from my bicycle tire smears onto the cat’s fur, which in turn smears onto my socks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, what?!” Taiju flushes red, hovering like he’s not sure what to do with the senbei crackers in his hands. When he slouches like that we’re no longer the same height, which feels kinda weird. “You knew..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re stiff as a rock, man, it’s obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s gonna notice,” Taiju shrinks inward like that time in the art room he complimented Yuzuriha’s artwork so much they both turned cherry red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if she does, follow it through. Say what you feel.” I reach out to thump my fist against his chest. “You got this, He-Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Taiju sends me a wobbling, but grateful smile. “..Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The time ticks, slow but a little too fast, the way most mornings are. The cat weaves away from me, disgusted by the grease matting her fur. Summer hydrangeas spill from the yard behind us onto the sidewalk, petals floating about like feathers, pink and blue. The other cat swats at one lazily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go get Senku?” Taiju asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shift my stance to knock a petal off my foot, but it stays stubbornly nestled in my shoelaces. “He’s not at school yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My bicycle tire traps a few hydrangea petals that litter the sidewalk. Flowers are everywhere. It’s like an infestation. Taiju pauses like he’s contemplating how to say what he’s about to tell me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s smoke coming out of his window,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s eight-forty and there’s a smoke plume billowing out of the window of Senku’s apartment. Byakuya’s up in outer space, so it’s up to me to do something about it, because Taiju going alone would make the situation worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We knock on the door and when Senku opens it he’s wearing a full on gas mask, huffing and puffing through the vents like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darth Vader</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He takes a moment to unlatch the thing and leave it dangling around his neck along with his untied tie, looking irritated that we’d bother to check up on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell are you two so late for school?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stare, dumbfounded, at the gas mask, the smoke surrounding him in a menacing halo, and the shimmer of sparkling electricity warping itself through the crack in the door. I want to ask but, like usual, I don’t even know where to start. I go with the most pressing issue first. “Senku, why the hell are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> so late?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m allowed to be, I need more time to work on my hard drive model, if I don’t keep a close eye on it it’ll blow up.” His face contorts. “..But that doesn’t matter anymore. It blew up just now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I say absently, “I see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku ignores me. “You’re always late, Nao, but Taiju’s late too? Did someone die or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to water some bushes and then the cats looked really hungry and—</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that reminds me, do you guys want some senbei?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I barely have a moment to reply before he throws down and tears open his bulging bookbag. About twenty homemade senbei rice crackers in flowery-patterned baggies tumble out onto the concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a brief pause, I bend over to pick up a handful of scattered bags and shove them into my skirt pockets. “..Say thanks to Ohira-san for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it was Hikari-san this time!” Taiju grins broadly. “She made them for her grandkids but there were extra so she gave them to me after I watered her flowers this morning!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That explains the state of the hydrangeas, then. Taiju’s always had a bit of a green thumb. Gramps likes to joke that he was a medieval farmer in his past life. Yuzuriha likes to say he’s got some fairy blood in him. And Senku, well—Senku doesn’t believe in fairies or past lives. He’s a real kill-joy like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku peeks into the bag at our feet. The zipper looks ready to give out; more crackers are squeezing through the gap in the top.  “Stop making friends with old ladies, Oaf. It’s totally weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head, “Senku, don’t blame Taiju, it’s not his fault he’s such a king.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju shoves the crackers back into his bag with so much force most of them crumble up. He’s as red as my bowtie. “Ki—</span>
  <em>
    <span>King?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hella King,” I confirm, tearing open a baggied cracker, “who’s gonna score himself a Queen today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju waves his hands around frantically like he’s trying to reassure us. A few more crackers try to shimmy through the ripping zipper. “I, I would be honored if she returned my affections, but of course if she says no I will respect that and,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod reverently, crunching a senbei between my teeth. It tastes a little chalky, probably from the smoke. “King."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku sends us a glare that, when paired with the sneer on his cheeks, is more demeaning than usual. He locks the apartment door behind him and doesn’t even bother taking his gas mask off, leaving it dangling around his neck like a sicko ornament. “Let’s go. I hate listening to you losers talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gesture to the cracks in the doorframe, still weeping with grey fumes. “Uh, what about all that smoke?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fixed the electricity panel for this building like eight times. The landlord owes me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” I say, because that’s completely normal. “Okay, let’s go then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pst</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wait, Nao,” Taiju whispers, but his whisper is an ordinary person’s normal volume so he might as well just be saying it. “Does Yuzuriha really think I’m a King?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man, does she ever,” I whistle slowly, snagging my bicycle from where it's propped up against the balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju shimmies like a bashful schoolgirl. I worry briefly for his backpack, which still swells with senbei. “Oh, that’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Nao,” Senku interjects. “Did you carry your bicycle up four flights of stairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink at him, gripping at the handlebars as I wheel it along. “Uh, yeah? I didn’t want anyone to steal it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku glares even harder, knotting his tie under the gas mask. “You’re inhuman. I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raise a brow. “Says the one who just blew up his apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s eight fifty. I know this because Osaka, Senku’s neighbor, is standing out on his welcome mat, picking up his mail; he always gets it around eight fifty. He grins at us as we pass by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning kiddos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Osaka-san.” We all chime in tandem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad we all turned off our smoke alarms,” Osaka mentions absentmindedly, adjusting the package in his grip. “I’ll call my buddy Nene to patch your door, Senku. Nene’s real good at that stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cool,” Senku says. “Hey, you need me to fix your blender?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, just bought up a new one.” The label on the box says </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hanabi Housewares </span>
  </em>
  <span>in bubbly font. “I needed an upgrade anyway. Thanks though. But, anyway,” Osaka raises a perfectly sculpted brow. “Aren’t you guys late? Didn’t school start, like, an hour ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s around nine o’clock, then. The sun’s warm enough that the wind feels syrupy and a bit humid. Good napping weather. When I get to school I’ll probably sleep through the rest of first period. I sit by the window, so I get a nice breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod. “I’m friends with my homeroom teacher, so I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju smiles widely. “Me too,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku fidgets with his gas mask, looking uninterested. “I’m already accepted into eight top-league colleges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Osaka says, already tuning us out as he starts tearing into his package. “Have a good day then, kiddos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye Osaka-san,” we chime happily. Except Senku, who regularly sounds like he’s watching someone murder children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway is long, long enough that both Taiju and I have enough time to scold (or in Taiju’s case, gently remind) Senku that explosions, especially in his enclosed apartment, are dangerous and he should only work with them in the park when he’s with us. I don’t think he’s listening to anything we’re saying, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it the secondary circuit that malfunctioned?” He’s muttering to himself, completely lost in his head, loosening his tie only to tighten it again. “I thought it would work this time..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..And we care about you, so you should stay safe,” Taiju finishes kindly. There are crumbs stuck to his upper lip; it makes me hungry for another senbei. I’m staring straight ahead at a shadow of foliage: it’s tracing a very pretty speckling of light on the railing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stairs,” I state flatly. Sometimes I have to warn Senku of upcoming obstacles or he runs directly into them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku steps down the first step instead of falling down it. Success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, your bicycle,” Taiju notes,“I’ll carry it down the stairs for you, Nao.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wheel the bicycle over to him gladly, and he hefts it up with one hand. The front wheel creaks wearily; I think I need to change the tire soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Taiju,” I smile widely. “You’re so great. You’re my best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks..ah,” Taiju opens his mouth and closes it. He adjusts the bicycle under his arm. “..I thought Senku was your best friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cross my arms in finality. “You’re my new best friend, starting today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that even mean anything?” Senku asks, though it’s more of a sarcastic drawl. “Your best friend was Yuzuriha last week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a girly girl, Senku, I have mood swings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku looks aghast at my ignorance. “Nao, you are the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> girly girl I have ever met in my entire goddamn life. Have you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> at yourself today? Your uniform bow is tied in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>knot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glance down. I hadn’t even noticed I’d done it. The red bow around my wrinkled shirt’s collar is double-knotted in a sloppy mess, dangling under two unbuttoned buttons. I’d forgotten my school-issued sweater-vest at home, my white button-down’s untucked, and my skirt is hiked up my right thigh, probably from biking a half-mile uphill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cute,” I intone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to be a better role model for your </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kouhai</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nao,” Senku drawls out the words, half-smirking. He’s probably referring to the fact that I’m two years older than him and all that. Which makes me depressed because he’s way ahead of me in every class ever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kouhai</span>
  </em>
  <span> my ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, role model,” Taiju agrees distantly. His face is pinched and it looks like he’s thinking really hard; I’m pretty sure he’s running through ‘confessing to Yuzuriha attempt #6’ in his head and has no idea what the hell we’re talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be a role model,” I admonish, curling my hands tighter around my backpack straps. “I’d rather be..hilariously edgy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku looks suddenly nauseous. “Nao, when you say things like that I feel like throwing up in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One of Chia’s pencils skitters across my paper and knocks a pile of pens off the desk; they clitter-clatter to the tile in a miniature avalanche. There’s a spattering of erasure bits along the edge of a calculus problem I can’t solve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—between your best friend, lover, and yourself, who would you save?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nasaki shut up about the stupid psychology quiz no one cares.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a muffled shattering noise above us and I wonder briefly if Amari-san is dropping flower pots onto the school roof from space. The track team is yelling chants outside the windows, footsteps falling </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathump-bathump</span>
  </em>
  <span> in tandem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This goddamn problem,” I blurt, “I can’t solve this goddamn problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku swirls a vat of liquid with a sneer; he’ll never help me. “Why the hell’d you sign up for chem club if all you do here is calculus homework?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smudge graphite with my thumb. “You’re asking me this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I’ve been in chem club this whole year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku straightens like he’s lecturing an invisible audience. “It doesn’t matter </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> you ask, as long as you ask eventually. Science is all about asking questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay, whatever. Can’t I just be in a club with my best friend ever and not get interrogated for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Taiju was your bes—oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’re such a loser, stop talking.” He says it with finality; I hate it but I stop talking anyway. “Why the hell didn’t you join a different club with Taiju and Yuzuriha or something? If you wanted to walk home with us so damn badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taiju and Yuzuriha are in the crafting club and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Caring Hands </span>
  </em>
  <span>community service club,” I mention, like that’ll explain it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku raises a brow, unconvinced. “So you chose to join </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chemistry</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of the three?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m failing chem.” I pause to smear a hand over the erasure marks. “..And everything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another vat of something sizzling changes hands, Chia to Senku and back again. “Rely on your people skills, Nao.” Senku advises sagely, “It’s all you're good at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“False,” Chia cuts in. “Nao-senpai is as dense as a rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasaki waggles his brows and the psychology magazine at me. “For real though, who would you save?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t solve this goddamn problem,” I reiterate, like an incentive. No one steps in to help me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something poofs with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>phhh-puff </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of Chia’s vial and the stomping of the track team’s footsteps crumbles into a distant shatter, like cracking porcelain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to the stars above,” I twist a hand through my bangs and almost tear out my stubby ponytail. “If I hear </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more </span>
  </em>
  <span>goddamn flower pot—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasaki throws down his magazine with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slap</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Flower pot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taiju chooses that moment to barrel through the door. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>SENKU!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <b></b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Senku shimmies his lanky arm into the vending machine slot. It’s way easier for him to fiddle things out since he’s gremlin sized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s my status?” I say, “Give me the rundown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku tosses me my drink. “Loser status, duh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, forgive me for forgetting,” I pop the top off my seltzer and wave it around as it sizzles and bubbles over my palm. “I am your subject, Ruler of the Science Kingdom Senku. I am below you. Like millions of meters below. Like other-side-of-the-</span>
  <em>
    <span>earth</span>
  </em>
  <span> below.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku gestures sharply with his soda can. “The other side of the earth would not be considered below me. We’d technically be standing on the same plane. You’d have to be at the earth’s core.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the goddamn lava rock, then. Like, all the way down there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> intelligent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chia gives us a long look, bracing himself on the edge of the open window. “Can you both stop talking? The level of sarcasm is almost excruciating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasaki tents the magazine on his head like a makeshift hat. It’s not even that sunny. “Hey, gimme the rundown too, Senku.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burn the magazine and maybe I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Hey.” Nasaki whips it off his head and whirls it around like a baton. “Hey, you gotta admit. It’s good stuff, like, questions on the apocalypse? It really shows you who you care about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chia gasps abruptly, and when we don’t react he gasps again, but louder. “Oh my god, Taiju’s going out there. Is he really gonna do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were talking about He-Man,” I butt in, “Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s gonna do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasaki rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t go careening out of his head. “It’s been, like, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>million</span>
  </em>
  <span> years and he still hasn’t confessed, forgive me for doubting him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chia nods reverently. “Yeah, he’s ten billion percent gonna chicken out like last year. Remember that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku’s face curls into a frown. “Chia. Stop stealing my catchphrases.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get to be the main anime character, Senku,” Chia whines, puffing out his face like a toddler, “so it’s only fair that I get to say some of your dumb lines,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku bristles to the tips of his hair. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a main anime character, for the last time—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, have you seen yourself in a mirror? You’ve literally got green highlights and spikes like friggin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Naruto</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shhhhhh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nasaki sputters into a poised finger. “Look—it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yuzuriha-chan!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>we all say simultaneously. Except Senku, who’s sipping his soda pop like its lemon juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuzuriha’s tucked into the crescent curve of our school’s confession tree like she belongs there, tying together a broken branch with her handkerchief. I’ll tease her for that later. She’s lit up with speckles of sunlight and I can see the curl of her smile even from here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chia sags along the edge of the window and I worry briefly he’ll fall out of it. “100 yen she rejects him, full front.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nasaki tips his glasses up as he smiles. “I’m raising the bid to 1000.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“10 billion yen she accepts,” Senku notes with a dainty sip of his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them shriek like babies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A puff of still air, slightly humid, shuffles through the open window, tinting everything a little green; though that might just be my sleep-deprived vision. I press my back against the wall, slowly sliding down it to the floor. A chuckle escapes before I can stop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers, Senku.” I hold my can upward with a grin. “It’s finally happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Senku looks a bit distracted, staring at me, then at something out in the distance, where the green lights glimmer like distant suns. My legs have fallen asleep. Chia’s gleeful laughter abruptly cuts off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nao,” Senku says, eyes widening and meeting mine. He reaches out, not with his soda can for a toast, but with his other, empty hand, fingers outstretched like he’s going to touch me. It’s so uncharacteristic that I forget to breathe; my ribs feel strangely tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The can falls from my fingers and with one brief, riveting clatter, the world ends.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. half a head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“How long is forever?<br/>Sometimes, just one second.”<br/><i>—Alice in Wonderland,</i> Lewis Carol</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Are you gonna eat that?”</p><p>Taiju’s waxy hair reflects more sunlight than the nearby stream. Grease, mostly. He hasn’t showered in days, but neither have I; Senku’s making a robot and that’s way more important. </p><p>“Nah,” I say. </p><p>Taiju nods, once, then twice. “Okay. I’ma have it.”</p><p>“Knock yourself out, He-Man.”</p><p>“Ha-<em> ha</em>!” Taiju gathers the apple slice in his dirt-stained fingers, shouting the He-Man laugh. I really love it when he does that. Too bad Yuzuriha’s not here; she always erupts into giggles, the kind that have her rolling around in the grass and soiling her skirts.</p><p>We've been working on this robot for weeks so I haven’t gotten a chance to hang out with her, and I hope that doesn’t make her sad or anything. But I’ll get to hang out with her soon; today’s the day we test our robot.</p><p>I hear the squeak of Senku’s shoes before I see him. He’s got a funny way of walking, confident but a bit unstable. His rusted red wagon bumps along the gravel behind him, but the wagon’s more pulling him than he’s pulling it. Taiju immediately runs up to help him but freezes to stare, eyes sparkling.</p><p>“The robot,” Senku says, lowering his voice half an octave, “has arrived.”</p><p>The creaking wagon slows to a stop. The robot’s about three feet tall and has a crude painting of Senku’s face on the red spray-painted chest plate.</p><p>“Wowzer,” Taiju blurts. He’s the only one I know who would exclaim that aloud.</p><p>“You did some work without us,” I note.</p><p>“Yeah, because you oafs kept blowing up the main console.”</p><p>I shift my weight to my heels. “I..may have made a few mistakes.” </p><p>“You fell asleep over <em> exposed wires </em>. Do you want to die or something? And I found crumbs in the chest plate, Taiju.”</p><p>Taiju whistles loudly. Impressive. I didn’t know he could whistle.</p><p>“Impressive,” I praise, “I didn’t know you could whistle,”</p><p>“Thanks,” Taiju says, grinning proudly.</p><p>We just stand there awkwardly and wait for Senku to say something, because he’s staring at us like he wants us to go drown ourselves in the creek.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Senku says.</p><p>“That’s a bad word,” Taiju notes.</p><p>Senku raises his brows, both irritated and stunned. “What the hell? No it’s not.”</p><p>Taiju points with an accusing finger. “That’s a bad word!”</p><p>“Let’s turn it on,” I interrupt, hands on my hips. </p><p>It takes a few moments for Taiju and I to haul the robot off the wagon because it’s heavier than it looks and Senku refuses to help. We prop it up in the grass. It’s ugly, but maybe that’s why it’s cool.</p><p>“Alright,” Senku starts, making for the switch on the side. </p><p>“Wait!” Taiju erupts, “we gotta name it!”</p><p>Senku somehow manages an expression that’s both sarcastic and profound. “Wow, okay, what do we name it then?”</p><p>Taiju hops into a pose, throwing his pointer finger toward the sky and cocking one hip. “<em>Red</em> <em>Robo Man, </em>Maker of Lightning and Destroyer of the Night!”</p><p>“Zappy,” I suggest.</p><p>“Zappy it is,” Senku declares, pressing the switch.</p><p>The robot makes wheezing, aborted snort of a sound and then puffs into a spark of electricity. The buzzing of its glowing eyes zap out of existence.</p><p>“Shit,” Senku utters.</p><p>Taiju lets out an aghast shriek. </p><p>The robot wavers like its melting in the summer heat and I barely have a moment to blink before I’m rocketed backwards into the grass with an explosive blast of smoke and compressed air. I roll against the dirt like a tumbleweed, feeling it smear my shirt as the breath is knocked out of my lungs.</p><p>I cough and choke, gulping smoke and dew. Taiju's shouting rings into my ears like the buzz of a fly and my fingers twitch against the damp earth, once, twice.</p><p>I hear Senku scrambling around in the dirt. “Are you guys okay?!”</p><p>Taiju gasps a heaving breath. “Yeee—ah! That was crazy!”</p><p>I roll onto my back, taking a deep, trembling breath, then exhaling. A low sigh rumbles out before I can stop it. </p><p>“Nao?!”</p><p>“The grass feels nice,” I mention, since it should be said. “Very warm.”</p><p>Senku’s response is a very loud and exaggerated sigh that blasts out more air than the previous explosion.</p><p>I drift off for a moment. I think Senku and Taiju are laying a little ways away from me. The smoke from the robot spirals into the sky like a lazy, weaving rain cloud. Senku’s breathing is a bit ragged; he’s probably pretty exasperated. We’ve been working on that robot for a while. To him it was probably like opening a glamorously-wrapped gift for something mundane like a pair of socks, but not even two socks, because one sock is missing.</p><p>Speaking of gifts.</p><p>“Hey,” I sit up in the grass; it‘s starting to feel kinda itchy. “Hey, it’s Yuzuriha’s eighth birthday next week, we gotta do something.”</p><p>“Oh—you’re so <em> right </em>!” Taiju shouts, jumping to his feet and mashing his hands through his hair. “Why are we messing with a robot right now?! We gotta do something for Yuzuriha!”</p><p>“The robot was <em> supposed to be </em> for Yuzuriha!” Senku snarks angrily, dislodging some grass as he stands. His little white coat is in complete disarray and a lock of his hair is seared off.</p><p>“What?” Taiju tilts his head, genuinely puzzled. “Why would Yuzuriha want a robot?”</p><p>I blink twice at Senku, frowning. “I thought <em> you </em> just wanted a robot, Senku.”</p><p>Senku narrows his brows. “..I thought she’d like robots because <em> you two </em> like robots.”</p><p>“Nah, she likes nail polish and posters with ponies.”</p><p>Taiju nods rapidly. “Yeah, ponies.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Senku says. </p><p>“Stop saying bad stuff, Senku!”</p><p>My head pops with the pain of being launched three feet into the air by an explosion and the blip of an idea. “We should make a pony robot.”</p><p>Senku looks real mad all of a sudden. “Oh my <em> god</em>.”</p><p>“Woah—<em> ahaha!” </em> Taiju’s jaw nearly unhinges with the force of his grin. “A <em> pony robot! </em> Nao that’s a great idea we should make her a <em> pony </em></p><p>how many days has</p><p> </p><p>ive </p><p> </p><p>ohgod doyouseethe, howlong’s Senkuwho is, crackling. i don’t remember</p><p>robots? who</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>i</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p><p>how manydays since</p><p> </p><p>theworld</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>stopped</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> the world is </em>
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  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p><p>“Nao?”</p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I feel my forehead first.</p><p>It’s a strange place to <em> feel </em> in the first place, but when you haven’t felt anything in a while, sensation is overwhelming and baseless. I feel every muscle on my forehead, the way they twitch and shift, the slight prickle of goosebumps, a brush of breeze, a piece of fringe tickling my skin.</p><p>Then I feel my eyes, shifting beneath my eyelids, the slight burn of light, sunlight, maybe. My ears clear, my hearing muffled but then ringing with astonishing clarity; things sound like they’re <em> crumbling </em> , like the crackling of broken flower pots or the clatter of bone on porcelain; there was a <em> thump </em> as flesh hit dirt, and then <em> oh, that’s my hand, attached to my body. There are my legs.  </em></p><p><em> Shouldn’t I be in pieces? </em> The thought zaps like a shockwave, and then I startle myself, flinching. <em> Why would I be in pieces? </em></p><p>It’s so bright my limbs look more like weird pale shapes but they’re my <em> limbs </em> , and they’re <em> on my body </em> , and I can <em> feel them </em> . I inhale and my chest expands so wide it’s like it’ll explode, so loose, <em> God, what is—? </em> The grass tickles and I’m hypersensitive everywhere, simultaneously numb and overwhelmed. It’s very uncomfortable.</p><p>Something is draped over me, tan like a potato sack: animal hides, I guess. The neckline is shoddily cut and the armholes are lopsided, but it’s long enough to reach my mid-thighs.</p><p>“I need you to help me carry this stuff down the mountain.”</p><p>A voice. I blink, peering at the watery shape in front of me.</p><p>It’s like my mouth won’t work, my skin dry as parchment and my limbs twitching in sporadic spasms. I blink a few more times and there’s <em> Senku </em> , my childhood friend and scientist extraordinaire. He seems a little older. I mean, his facial expression’s flattened into its neutral state of boredom—but something feels <em> different </em> about him, be it the twin scars crossing over his eyes or the fact that his weird fringe is doubled. He’s wearing something that looks like fried animal skin with <b>E=mc</b> <b>²</b> written on the side in—is that <em> blood </em>?</p><p>“I <em> said </em>,” Senku emphasizes, growing impatient, “I need you to help me carry this stuff down the mountain.”</p><p>Senku—I’m beginning to think he’s a hallucination at this point—Hallucination Senku is, in fact, surrounded by a multitude of what seem like hand-woven baskets and clay bottles. I’m squinting so much the muscles in my face are starting to strain.</p><p>“Senku,” I rasp, voice sounding like somebody had run it through a grater, “what the fuck is happening.”</p><p>“All of humanity has been trapped in stone for 3,700 years,” he explains shortly. He’s slouched over himself, criss-cross applesauce, hand propped on his knee and holding an empty clay bottle in one fist. “I’ve just un-petrified you. For now I need you to carry these down this mountain so I can eventually join back up with Taiju and Yuzuriha—“</p><p>“Wait, wait,” I wave a twitching hand. “Slow down. What is all this?”</p><p>“Supplies, obviously,” Senku says, and my gaze wanders from his so-called ‘supplies’ to the massive trees that surround us, blanketing the grass I’m sitting in with shimmery shadows. The trunk I’m leaning against is four times wider than I am, and seems taller than the sky.</p><p>“Are..” I blink up at the massive canopy. “Are we still in Japan?”</p><p>Maybe I’m just hallucinating, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m capable of a dream so intricate. I’m definitely not creative enough. The sky is like a pattern of speckled leaves and brilliant blue clouds; the sun streams through the leaves and drapes light across our bodies like strips of gold.</p><p>“I’m sure we are,” Senku mentions, climbing to his feet, crimson eyes alight with a sunbeam. “But I don’t have a way to tell for certain just yet. Can you stand?”</p><p>I stand, though shakily, eyeing my too-smooth hands and the way my feet shiver against the earth. I prop myself on the trunk of the tree behind me, ignoring the way I’m shaking, because if I acknowledge it I’ll shake more. </p><p>“Nao.”</p><p>“Yup. I’m..” The sun shimmers like sheer veils hovering around us. I remember the feeling of the school hallway tile, worn down and slightly rough. It’s probably gone now. <em> 3,700 years </em>—they’re all probably..</p><p>“I’m good.”</p><p>I take a straw pack from Senku and wince at the sheer weight of it, but it's surprisingly easy to carry. After a moment I notice I’m just as muscular as I was when I’d fallen asleep, thunder thighs and all.</p><p>“So humanity’s..been turned to stone,” I reiterate, my head feeling fuzzy and full, “and we’ve been asleep for 3,700 years, and..” I sling the bag onto my back and try to adjust the basket straps digging into my shoulders, to no avail. “What now?”</p><p>“I plan to rebuild humanity from scratch,” Senku says offhandedly, in the way he often would when launching a rocket prototype in the park and saying he was planning to make it to Mars. “I’ll build it all back up, from this stone world all the way to <em> civilization </em>. This is just a starting point.”</p><p>I side-eye him and suddenly remember mixing him some broth in Gramps’ ramen booth, unable to look away as he argued with his dad over who would make it to space first. And now he’s said he’s going to <em> rebuild the world. </em>Not just making robots and birthday presents—no, this is something much bigger. Something he can’t afford to mess up.</p><p>He grins at me, all teeth, and I’m distantly reminded why my Gramps is so afraid of this kid. “Exhilarating, right?”</p><p>“Sure,” I reply, a strange smile ghosting my lips. “..Count me in.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s around four thirty. I can tell because the sun dips low enough that we can see it, lingering among the tree trunks like a lantern. It’s spring, <em> early </em> spring; there are wildflowers everywhere. Maybe the hydrangeas have died off. Senku tells me about lions and stone people and sea-shells and I run my hands over the bars of soap he’d shoved into my tunic's pockets. My nails are rounded at the edges and my palms are soft, baby-pink as a newborn’s.</p><p>It’s around four thirty. I can’t see much but the sun and the weeds that Senku hacks away with a worn, blunt axe. He doesn’t get us very far. The mosquitos and flies buzz about us curiously, but don’t bite. We’re like foreigners in our own home. </p><p>“What’s my status?" I say, "Gimme the rundown.”</p><p>“Loser status,” Senku returns immediately, swatting at a bug near his shoulder; I can hear it buzzing from here. “Why do you even keep asking?”</p><p>I huff a sputter, hobbling over an uneven rock. “Still?! What’s it gonna take?”</p><p>Senku hacks at a branch in our way but doesn’t do much but bend it backwards a little so we can pass. It whips me in the arm. “A shitload of talent.”</p><p>“Ah..the one thing I don’t have,” I sigh loudly, aimlessly staring up at the canopy of trees. I wonder if any of these are trees I’ve seen before.  “And here I’d thought I’d moved up a bit after sleeping 3,700 years..”</p><p>“You’re not gonna move up that easy. Besides, for <em> you </em>, I bet that was a light nap.”</p><p>I step over another cracked stone. “..Don’t be mean.”</p><p>“I’m not <em> mean </em> , just <em> factual </em>. You sleep 90% of the time you’re awake.”</p><p><em>“</em>No I don—” I blink rapidly. “Wait, what does that even <em>mean</em>?” </p><p>Senku makes a weird snort of sound that I know is a muffled laugh. I sigh again and make a move to step over another rock. “Gosh these stones are everywh—”</p><p>That’s someone’s face. </p><p>She looks like Naomi; Naomi’s this girl in my history class, she likes to doodle on her desk in pencil when Ohara-sensei isn’t looking, so there’s always graphite staining her shirt sleeve because that’s how she wipes it away. I can’t really tell if it’s Naomi though because half the face is missing and it’s only a head</p><p>“Nao.”</p><p>“I uh,” Naomi’s eyes weren’t quite that sharp, I don’t think. “Yeah.”</p><p>Senku’s standing rather close and I can’t tell how long I’ve been staring at the statue. The piece of the statue. The head.</p><p>“They can come back,” he says to me. “The revival fluid, remember?”</p><p>It’s four thirty, maybe four thirty seven; I can tell because the golden light spills across the earth and makes the stones look flesh-toned. I’m breathing quickly so I take a moment to draw out my exhale. “..The broken ones too?”</p><p>“Yes,” Senku says, still looking at me intently. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this unnerved in my life and I can tell Senku’s disturbed by it too. “..We can piece them together.”</p><p>I blink a few more times. The head looks strangely small next to my foot. Maybe because it’s only half of a head. “Okay.”</p><p>Senku bumps his hand against my shoulder: an incentive, though a slightly awkward one. “Let’s go.”</p><p>“..Yeah.”</p><p>My eyes linger on the statues we pass; some are harder to find, nestled in tree groves, bushes, formations of sediment. Some are strewn about in the dirt, eyes filled with foliage, dead bugs, crushed shells, staring blankly into the shimmering sunlight. </p><p>I scour each of their chipped faces like I’ll recognize something there. Senku grows impatient with my slow pace eventually so I try to stop myself from looking, but it’s difficult. I want to know, so <em> desperately </em>, if Gramps, or Chia, or..</p><p>Eventually I grow drowsy enough from the weight of my luggage that my anxiety lessens. Senku’s handing off basket after basket to me until I’m carrying practically everything he owns. He always does that when we’re working on projects, so I don’t bother to protest. I wouldn’t want him dying of heat stroke in a primitive world.</p><p>Anyway, being Senku's laborer isn’t out of the ordinary—Taiju’s usually his first choice to lug equipment around and Senku forces stuff on me when he’s not around—but the fact that he introduced a rolling wagon only <em> after </em> I’d walked three miles downhill with the weight of a grown man on my back put me in a bad mood.</p><p>He's had the idea for the (admittedly scrappy) wagon in his pretty little head the whole time. There’s a <em> logical </em> reason for waiting, of course—the slope of the mountain’s getting less steep on the way down, and therefore we’re less likely to lose control of the wagon—but that doesn’t mean I <em> like </em> it.</p><p>"I saw a smoke signal a few days ago, before Yuzuriha, Taiju and I got seperated " Senku explains, after I ask him where we were headed. He’s sweating with exertion even though all he has in his hands is a big stick with an ugly looking flag. It probably has some significance, but for the life of me I can’t tell what it is. "Whoever set it—I'm going to make them my comrades. And then we're going to go get Tsukasa before he causes any more—"</p><p>"Who's Tsukasa?"</p><p>"Too many questions," Senku complains, as if I’m inconveniencing him. "I'll explain later. Just put one hundred percent of your energy into pulling that—!"</p><p>The forest erupts into sound—something rumbles and thumps and the earth shakes so violently I feel it under my skin. I almost lose my grip on the wagon handle and stumble over a tree root as a rustling noise, like the whirling of a thousand leaves, follows creaking and groaning: like some massive beast just collapsed.</p><p>Senku's eyes blow wide. "What was that?!"</p><p>I shake off my fear and say flatly, "Taiju just took a massive shit."</p><p>Senku snorts a laugh and sends me a glare but his lips are twitching into a weird sort of smirk. "..Let's go check it out."</p><p>He bounds off with more grace than I’d expect from him. I hurry to follow, still stumbling and disoriented, hauling the wagon behind me, almost tripping as its wheels bump over rocks and tree roots. Senku made it to the source of the noise first, if the shouting I hear anything to go by; when I enter a small clearing, his shouting is joined by another's. A woman's voice?</p><p>Trapped beneath a huge, fallen tree, a young woman claws at the dirt, her torso exposed. My heart leaps into my throat but there’s no blood to be found, and she’s saying something,</p><p>"I'm just trapped beneath here, I can hold out until night, yes."</p><p>Senku whirls around, "I need the ropes and my hammer!”</p><p>The girl cranes her neck to stare at me, her blue eyes widening. I don’t even have a moment to hesitate, throwing one of the many bags on my back down and ripping through some of the poorly-woven pockets. I dig through a myriad of tools before tossing a chipped hammer to Senku and he starts hacking away at a piece of the trunk like a madman. </p><p>“You okay?” I ask the girl, my hands twitching. The bars of soap in my tunic’s pockets weigh me down like anchors. I feel off. <em> This </em> feels off, <em> everything </em> feels off; am I in a coma? Am I just hallucinating? What in <em> God’s </em> name are we—</p><p>“Nao!” Senku shouts.</p><p>The ropes, right.</p><p>I lift the basket of rope off the wagon just as Senku finishes up rounding off a gear. It looks like he’s gonna make a pulley system of some sort.</p><p>I stare down at the women. If Senku’s right, she’s one of the ones who set the smoke signal. She looks distinctly mixed-raced, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. Was she recently un-petrified? Or perhaps a descendant of a human who'd survived the petrification?</p><p>"Coat the ropes in soap, if we don't then they'll catch on fire—"</p><p>I toss Senku a length of rope that I'd already coated and he grins at me, rushing to hook it up onto a gear. This is not our first <em>DIY</em>-pulley shenanigan. I’ve snuck enough snacks to the second floor of the school to know what I’m doing. I jog after him as he starts clambering up the side of a nearby tree.</p><p>“I’m okay,” the girl calls to me, and it takes me an embarrassingly long moment to understand what the hell she’s talking about. The sun hovers blood red and the sky falls along with it and everything moves so fast I don’t know what I’m doing and what’s been done. It’s five thirty, or maybe six. Early spring. 3,700 years in the future.</p><p>"Okay, done!" Senku shouts up at me to where I’m perched on an elevated tree branch, "I've tied it to the trunk! I need you to take hold of the rope and pull down using your body weight!"</p><p>"Yeah," I call, taking the thick rope in my hands and launching off. I don’t get very far, dangling and slowly falling to the ground as the trunk groans and creaks beneath me—it’s <em> working </em>.</p><p>I turn my head to see the woman scrambling out from beneath the now elevated trunk. I sigh so heavily at the sight of her unharmed figure that I exhale all the air from my lungs. The sky is such a brilliant color that it makes her blue eyes look red.</p><p>For a moment there is nothing but the still silence of the air and a gentle chirp far off in the distance. Everything warms under the crimson sun and it feels like my life has changed colors.</p><p>"Sorcerer," the girl says to Senku, clasping her hands behind her and rocking on her heels, "I think I’m..interested in you."</p><p>..What.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You were out here for..hot spring water?”</p><p>“It’s for my sister.”</p><p>I think we’ve met the goddess of the moon. <em> Diana </em>, was it? My memory’s kinda scrambled, especially the stuff from Literature class. The girl doesn’t say much but her voice is like a rumble of air, that sparkle of static in the sky before a storm. She could probably kill us if she wanted to, but instead she’s gripping a barrel half the size of her like her life depends on it. </p><p>"Kou..Kouhaku, right?" I ask wearily, adjusting my grip on the wagon handle. Her name <em> sounds </em> Japanese, but it’s still odd to me. What’s even more odd is the fact that she’s been <em> running </em> in those horrendous clog-heeled sandals. I get a foot cramp just <em> looking </em> at them.</p><p>"That's me," she returns, "and you are another sorcerer, I presume." For a moment her eyes linger on the exposed musculature of my arms and legs, but she doesn’t look weary in the slightest; I presume my baggy tunic makes me look lankier than I am. I straighten out my slouch and her eyes narrow at my height: I’m taller than her even with her ridiculous platforms. I take more pride in it than I’d like to admit.</p><p>She doesn’t ask my name but I’m not inclined to give it to her. According to Senku's vague one-liners, we have ‘enemies,’ and no one knows about my ‘awakening’ yet. If this girl’s truly primitive, then perhaps I’ll tell her my name—but this world feels too vast and unfamiliar, and I don’t want to be known as a part of it yet, at least not for a little while.</p><p>“It’s good to meet you.” She stands tall as if there are bricks on her shoulders, but those bricks are just challenges for her to face. What I’m trying to say is that she’s toned and confident as hell.</p><p>“..Same to you,” I say distantly. The sun’s sunk low enough that Senku’s starting a small fire. When did he learn to do that?</p><p>Anyway, it turns out we'd misread her intentions when she said 'I’m interested in you,’ to Senku. She isn’t interested in romance or whatever, she’s just interested in <em>us</em>, because of our weird 'sorcery' contraptions. From the way she calls us 'sorcerers' and seems unknowledgeable of anything modern-related, I assume my second theory proves correct: she’s from a group of primitive people, a descendant of someone who survived the..petrifying. And she’s leading us right to her village, in thanks for saving her.</p><p>“Thank you for helping me,” Kohaku's saying, sharpening a knife as long as my forearm. “But I don’t recognize you. You weren’t there when the long-haired man killed your sorcerer friend—“</p><p>“What,”</p><p>Senku rolls his eyes, gnawing at the edge of a stick to sharpen it. “I was only dead for ten minutes max.”</p><p>
  <em> “What,” </em>
</p><p>“Nao.” He addresses me sternly and I freeze in place. “<em> Let it go </em>. I’ll tell you about it later.”</p><p>I don’t want to let it go, the last thing I want to do is let it go, but his eyes are set in stone like the statues around us and I</p><p>“Can you get the bedrolls? They’re in the third bag you were lugging around; you can use Taiju’s old one. I washed it, so don’t freak out.”</p><p>“..Yeah,” I mutter. There are still around twelve bars of soap in the pockets of my tunic. I feel like I’m hallucinating still, even though my feet are bleeding and I’d scraped my arms multiple times climbing that tree earlier. If I was hallucinating, that would've snapped me out of it.</p><p>Kohaku grunts a puff of air that’s comically similar to my Grandfather’s. She slides down the tree, propped up against it, knives poised in a battle stance. The small flame of the fire bursts to life, a golden speck of warmth.</p><p>It’s growing cold. Senku rubs his palms together by the flame. I stick my hands in my pockets but am blocked by all the bars of soap. <em> Where the hell am I supposed to put this soap? </em></p><p>“Bedrolls,” Senku reminds me.</p><p>Right, the bedrolls. I need to sleep before I pass out, cry, or jump headfirst into the fire.</p><p>The bedrolls are made of thick, fuzzy fur that scratches at my skin when I rub it the wrong way. It’s not quite comfortable going in, but once I settle it’s very warm. The deerskin sleeping bag is a perfect fit. I can tell it’s Taiju’s by that alone.</p><p>Taiju and I have the same coloring and height so we often played as twin siblings to get discounts at <em> Ochiru’s Soba; </em> however, I’m pretty sure we got discounts just because Ochiru loves Taiju so much. Pretty much everyone in town does. Taiju’s gained fame by watering everyone’s lawns and buying old ladies flowers. Our little square, third avenue, is Taiju’s domain.</p><p>Or <em> was </em> ? Is it <em> was </em> now?</p><p>Kohaku’s fallen asleep. I can tell by her breathing: shallow, but slow and even. She can’t fool me with the whole battle-posture thing; I’ve been to enough chemistry club sleepovers to know people can fall asleep standing. Senku did it with two sizzling beakers in his hands.</p><p>“You’re not asleep yet?” Senku's voice is quiet. I can feel his stare on the back of my head. “..That’s uncharacteristic.”</p><p>I <em>want</em> to be asleep, but I don’t know what that’ll feel like. If that’ll feel the same as those endless boundless stretching hours in darkness with flashes of voices and places and memories; died, Senku <em> died </em> while I was in there, if Kohaku’s right and nobody’s lying and</p><p>“..Nao?”</p><p>“Senku, you..” My voice sounds strung-out like frayed, twangy wires. “You..died?” </p><p>“Temporarily,” He explains, like that makes it any better. “Tsukasa hit my neck pretty damn hard, but I’d purposely baited him to hit me there, since I’d kept a small piece of my petrification shell over that area. Apparently the shell can heal major injuries. Imagine the possibilities for future medici—“</p><p>“<em> Apparently </em> ?” I say flatly. My chest feels too tight. “Senku. Were you <em> betting </em> on the fact that the petrification could heal you?”</p><p>“We’d experimented with a piece on Yuzuriha’s foot beforehand—”</p><p>“Senku, that’s not the same as being brought back to <em> life </em>.”</p><p>The flame cracks into the silence like the snapping of bone. </p><p>“..I swear,” I continue lightly, but there’s something wavering in my tone. “Every time I look away for a second, something blows up, or somebody almost dies, or,”</p><p>“..Sorry.”</p><p>His voice is unusually quiet. I turn to stare aimlessly at the back of his head. His hair’s mussed up and slightly greasy. I wonder for a moment how long he’s been out here, all by himself.</p><p>“..There’s not a lot that I understand yet, but I do understand this.” My voice fades to a whisper. “Don’t sacrifice yourself like that again, okay? Even if there’s a chance you’ll live, just..don’t take that bet in the first place. If you’re smart enough to save the world, then you’re smart enough to save yourself along with it.”</p><p>We lay in silence for a moment, the cricket’s chirping, fire’s crackling and Kohaku’s slow breathing our only company.</p><p>Senku grumbles a sigh. “..Yeah.”</p><p>“Yeah,” I chuckle a little. I can tell he’s getting tired.</p><p>Senku sighs, shuffling in his sleeping bag, stilling when he’s comfortable. I hear him scratch at his head for a moment. “..Goodnight, loser.”</p><p>I scoff, turning over and propping an arm beneath my head for a pillow. “‘Night. Kingdom of Science Leader Senku.”</p><p>I hear him snicker in the dark, and paired with the shivering song of the crickets, it sounds like an echo.</p>
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